THE DON'S SECRET OBSESSION ( His Bride, Her Prison)
I never wanted any part in this. But I have no choice. With a deep sigh, I force down an invisible lump in my throat, looking up at the priest.
I press my fingers tighter into the flower I am holding, hoping it hides how much I am shaking. Dreading the words the priest is about to utter.
"Do you, Ariella Cecilia Boone, take Dermos Salvatore to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest asks.
I blink.
I badly want to say it, badly want to scream that I am not Ariella Cecilia Boone.
My lips tremble as I force the truth down my throat, "Yes, I do." I murmur, my voice a little over a whisper.
~~~~
Ariel Hannah Boone didn't know what life had in store for her when she woke up on her twin sister's wedding day, only to find out her sister had run away.
She went into panic when her mother insisted she take her place because Dermos Salvatore was no man to joke with.
Dermos was the most feared Don in the whole of Sicily, one who killed without care. A blood thirsty murderer with no remorse.
In an attempt to save her family from his wrath, she takes her sister's place at the wedding.
Pain, suffering, and betrayal are all she knows the moment she became his. Secrets begin to unveil as she realises her family isn't what it seems.
And when whispers of her sister's disappearance reach her, she finds out the truth.
He never wanted Ariella; it had always been her.
Ariel has to choose between a love built on lies or betraying her sister and family.
She was his bride, and he was her prison, yet he would never let her go.
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Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
The ride back to his home is one of the longest ever. I literally press myself into my seat, trying hard not to feel depressed as I think of how I always thought I would have a magnificent wedding.
Now, I am sitting in my husband's car, drenched in blood in my sister's wedding dress.
This sucks, my whole life sucks.
And the deathly silence in the car isn't helping a bit.
Dermos is seated beside me and pretending that I don't exist, while Carlos drives the car, a Tesla.
The silence gets to me until I can't stand it anymore. My head slowly turns to look at him, my husband.
I see now that he is buried in his phone.
"Are we close?" I can't help but ask. The dress is sticky and itchy, plus the idea of someone's blood drying on me makes me want to puke.
"Soon be there, Mrs Salvatore," Carlos responds while Dermos doesn't even move an inch as if he didn't hear a single word I said.
Instead, he remains deep into what he is typing on his phone, not even sparing me a glance.
I take that as my cue to shut up. Slowly letting my body slide down the seat, I once again turn my head to stare out the window.
The road is empty, devoid of life, just endless green trees. Lord knows where he is taking me to.
Will I ever become who I have always dreamed of being? Will I ever open my boutique? Or is my life as Ariel Hannah Boone over?
I don't get to think too much when the car swerves. The buzzing sound of a giant gate pulling open has me sitting up straight.
"Whoaaa!!" I can't help the gasp that escapes my lips at the sight before me.
It's a freaking mansion. The whole place is like an estate, the building is so big and painted completely cream in colour with some gold streaks attached to it. As we drive in the long concrete aisle filled with guards on both sides, in front, I see a big fountain; it's so large I can't help but gasp.
The whole place is so beautiful, I snap my head to the side only to find a maze made out of beautiful flowers.
I wasn't expecting this at all.
The car comes to a quick halt, and Dermos pushes his door open without even sparing me a glance.
I don't really mind; the less attention he gives me, the better it is for me to pass with my act as Ariella.
"Come on, Mrs Salvatore, I will show you to your room." Carlos' voice draws me out of my thoughts. He's the only one making an effort to be nice.
I nod, quickly rushing out of the car as I march behind him. The door squeaks open, revealing the largest living room I have ever seen.
It looks like a hall, and has different couches placed at strategic places with a wide plasma hung on the wall. A beautiful chandelier hangs from the ceiling.
Everything is painted in cream and gold.
Classy.
Is this my new home or my new hell? I can only wonder.
My lips are parted in amazement as I tug my hair from my face.
Let's do this.
"What the hell?" I can't help the words tumbling out of my lips as the door to my room creaks open.
The room is large, but every single piece of furniture is pink. The bed, drawer, closet, and down to the damn TV.
What the hell? I hate pink, that's Ariella's best color– oh crap.
"You don't like it? Don said it was your favourite color–"
"Of course, I love it. Thank you." I cut him off, swallowing the lump of disgust I feel rising up in my throat.
"Alright, settle in. The Don will be with you soon." He says, a small smile gracing his lips, yet the way his eyes twinkle gives me the creeps.
"Thank you," I repeat, shuffling backward. He nods, then turns, pulling the door open before walking out.
My heart drops as I force back tears from dropping.
Don't cry. This is nothing to cry about. I clench my jaw tight. Just how long can I cope?
"I hate you," I whisper with my eyes closed, pretending Ariella is right here with me.
It is something I heard so many times from her, but I never had the guts to say it back to her face.
Ariella's words from a few years back slam into me, causing my breath to seize. It's not true. "You always take everything from me, but still, you never amount to anything."
My knee buckles as I slump on my bed, not mine. It's hers.
She wasn't right. I never took things from her. My whole life has been hell because my sister hates me, thinking I take what she wants.
This is the only time I accept that because I am married to the man of her dreams.
How will I do this? When she gets back, what will happen? Where did she run to? What if Dermos finds out?
A sharp sting bites into my skin, causing me to realise that I am still in the bloodied dress.
Moving my body on autopilot, I push out of the bed, stalking to the bathroom to bathe and change. My body goes through the motions without my mind.
Once done, and wrapped in a comfy robe. I step out of the bathroom only to meet a figure standing in front of my window.
"Ahh!" A tiny scream tears out of my lips as my body jolts up in surprise.
I didn't hear him come in. Dermos is now dressed in casual joggers and a sweatshirt that still manages to show his ripped arms.
His green eyes look deeper, much darker than I saw earlier, his blonde hair now gelled to the back, giving his face a younger, and much hotter look.
Damn, he is handsome.
"What are you doing here?" I murmur, forcing my eyes not to rake down his body again.
I can't look at my sister's husband.
She will be back soon, and I will leave as if all this never happened. I will go on to achieve my dream, I will open my boutique, and get my master's degree. I will prove her wrong.
Once she is back, I will forget all this ever happened, so that means I can't find him attractive.
"What do you mean? We are married, and this is our first night, so I am here to have sex." He states plainly.
My eyes widen as my arms automatically fly to my mouth, and I stumble backwards, causing my robe to open slightly, showing an eyeful of my boobs.
"Don't look." I cry out, snapping my hand forward to cover my pride.
His lips twitch as a sly smirk covers his lips, "Why shouldn't I? You are my wife, aren't you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at me. "Are you shy? That is surprising."
Shit! Ariella wouldn't make a big deal out of this. I have to think fast.
My lips move as a fake hard cough splutters out of my lips, my hand slams to my chest as I keep the fake cough coming.
"Honey, please, can we postpone it? I am not feeling quite well, and I wouldn't want to give you the flu." I lie through my teeth, hoping I sound convincing enough.
His eyes squint as he watches me for a while before nodding. He pushes himself off the desk where he had leaned before stalking to the door.
"Well, this is quite odd, Ariella. I expected that you would easily adjust," He says, pushing the door open before leaving.
Shit! How would Ariella have handled this? Perhaps she would have thrown herself at him.
We aren't best of friends, so the only side I know is the bitchy hateful witch side she constantly showed me.
Ping.
My eyes snap to my phone lying on my bed with the screen now on. I move over, grabbing the device to check it.
My whole being freezes at the text displayed on the screen. I stumble backwards, letting the device out of my hand.
It can't be. It has barely been a day.
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9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
7.6
I was arranging white lilies on the cold marble of my husband's grave when I saw a ghost.
Walking through the cemetery gates was a man who looked exactly like my dead husband, Dante.
Logic said it was his twin brother, Matteo. But a wife knows the slope of a man's shoulders. She knows the arrogant tilt of his chin.
My husband hadn't been blown up in a car bomb three years ago.
He had faked his death to steal his brother's rank, his fortune, and his mistress.
For three years, I had forced our son, Leo, to kiss a photograph goodnight. We lived in a damp, peeling apartment, surviving on the "charity" of the Family.
Meanwhile, Dante was living in a mansion, driving cars that cost more than my life, playing house with another woman.
When he came to our cramped apartment to drop off the monthly "pension" money, pretending to be Uncle Matteo, he didn't look at me with love. He looked at his watch.
When Leo ran to hug him, shouting "Papa," Dante peeled the boy's small arms off his expensive suit like he was removing a piece of lint.
"Don't call me that," he snapped. "I am your Uncle."
My grief turned into ice. He chose another woman's comfort over his own son's hunger.
I grabbed Leo's hand and walked out the door.
"You walk away, and you get nothing!" Dante shouted after me. "You'll be on the street!"
I didn't stop. I walked straight to the black SUV idling at the curb.
The window rolled down, revealing Salvatore Vitiello. The Don. The most lethal man in the city.
"Get in, Elena," he commanded.
I opened the door and slid onto the leather seat next to the devil himself.
As we drove away, leaving my husband in the dust, I realized I had just traded a liar for a killer.
And I didn't regret it for a second.
8.1
Trigger Warning: This book is extremely dark, containing themes of obsession, strong sexual content, abuse, and psychological manipulation. Read at your own risk.
"I'll delete the pictures depending on how obedient you are. You have to do everything I say. If I want you to become a dog, you get on your knees and bark. Do we have a deal?"
Pierce leans down to Malakai's height, his lips brushing the shell of his ear, close enough to taste his fear.
"You don't want her to know what a dirty little creep you are, do you?"
Malakai Kreston is the preacher's perfect son. Quiet. Obedient. The kind of boy no one looks at twice.
But Malakai has a filthy secret. And he'll do anything-anything-to keep it buried.
Enter Pierce Masterson.
Wealthy. Attractive. Pierce doesn't just want Malakai's secret. He wants Malakai. All of him. His fear. His obedience. His body. His mind.
Pierce wants to own it, and lock it away where no one else can ever touch it.
Kai has always been the hunter-watching from the shadows, obsessing in silence, taking what doesn't belong to him.
Now someone is hunting him.
And Pierce doesn't play fair. He plays dirty.
How far can you run when the devil already knows every dark corner of your soul?
In a game of predator and prey, the lines blur. The roles reverse. And the most dangerous thing isn't the boy who holds the blackmail-
It's the moment Malakai stops wanting to be free.
7.6
My ex-husband, Reese Beaumont, sent me divorce papers on our anniversary, five years after I walked down the aisle to join him. I signed them with a red lipstick and sent them back to him, with a short note which read: "I am not going to give you the liberty of thinking you still own me."
Now, one year later, he is standing in my office, the smug look in his eyes gone, and for some reason, still wearing our wedding ring.
"You're still mine, Roxanne. You didn't sign the divorce papers, and you seem to forget that you're nothing without me."
A soft chuckle escape my lips, right as my fake fiancé walks in, holding our one-year-old son. The son Reese never knew I was pregnant with.
"Funny," I mutter. "Because I don't remember you being in control of the game."
Now, he's everywhere, showing up at my gallery and outbidding my fake fiancé at my auctions. Telling the media we are on the road to reconciliation.
But I am not the same woman who cried for him one year ago.
I am the woman he never expected to walk out the door. And the one he'll always regret letting go.
9.2
I was sold to Damien Russo, the ruthless Don of Chicago, as collateral in a shipping route transaction. I was expected to be a silent, obedient bride in a cold, loveless marriage.
But the moment I stepped into the Russo estate, I realized my new family wanted to completely destroy me.
My mother-in-law, Eleonora, and her arrogant relatives immediately targeted me. They set traps in the solarium, mocked my late mother's heritage, and tried to force me into humiliating submission using their strict mafia traditions. They wanted to break my spirit so Damien would replace me with the bride they actually wanted—a purebred mafia princess. They expected me to cower in fear, isolated and helpless, while the whole family watched my public humiliation and waited for my downfall.
Did they really think I was just a fragile girl who would cry and run away? They completely underestimated the survival instincts of a woman who grew up in this bloody world. I learned long ago that tears are worthless.
"My rules are simple. Vendetta is a two-way street."
Instead of breaking, I smiled. I weaponized their own legendary ancestors and the sacred promise of an unborn heir to trap the Matriarch in her own rules, forcing her into a suffocating silence. If they wanted a war for the throne, I would gladly show them exactly why I am the undisputed Mafia Queen.
9.2
I discovered the dark secret my stepmother Beatrice had been hiding for years.
When I threatened to expose the truth to the mafia, my half-brother Angelo and step-sister Carmella locked me in an abandoned Brooklyn warehouse.
Carmella stood there in my mother's expensive silk dress, her voice sweet and venomous as she confessed how she had meticulously stolen my life and my father's love.
Angelo looked at me with cold indifference, pouring gasoline over my feet before striking a match.
"You're insane for threatening to break the code of silence," they laughed, leaving me to burn alive to protect their stolen thrones.
My own father turned a blind eye, letting his trueborn daughter turn to ash just to maintain the illusion of his perfect family.
The smell of charred flesh filled my throat. Until I died, I didn't understand. I had bled for our survival, even taking a bullet for the terrifying Moretti Matriarch.
Why did my father let the bastard children of a Chicago bootlegger steal my inheritance and murder me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom heat of the inferno faded into a cool New York afternoon.
I was seventeen again, sitting in the backseat of a Cadillac, just returning from my three-year exile in Switzerland.
This time, I wouldn't just scream. I would marry the terrifying Prince of New York and watch my stepmother's entire bloodline burn.